


i'm pouring my guts out for you (literally)

by StrangerInAStrangeLand



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Stephen Strange, Sickfic, TW: Vomiting, stephen strange whump, stomach bug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerInAStrangeLand/pseuds/StrangerInAStrangeLand
Summary: After a long bout of overworking himself, Stephen Strange comes down with a stomach virus. Wong keeps advising him to take it easy, but of course, he doesn't listen.
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Wong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	i'm pouring my guts out for you (literally)

**Author's Note:**

> what is up my cranky crew!!!!!! i ate a whole box of macaroni last night lets get this party STARTED :D

It was a tired, Monday afternoon. An inter-dimensional creature had recently transcended barriers and has run amok across Earth. As such, Stephen Strange was working hard on tracking down the creature and incapacitating it once and for all. 

Well, perhaps he was working  _ too _ hard. 

The story begins on the 9th day in a row of his studies. The Sorcerer Supreme had been working non-stop in tracking down whatever creature was among them. All that he found so far, however, was a fever. 

"You need to take a break," Wong said from the doorway. 

Stephen rolled his eyes. "What makes you say that?" 

"I don't know, maybe the sweat raining down your forehead," he noted. "Or perhaps it's the ghost that possessed you to make your skin that pale." 

Stephen paused his studies momentarily to deliver an arrogant huff. "Well, I don't need to take a break," he assured, crossing his arms. "I'm fine."

Wong crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. He gestured towards the fruit bowl he had brought in hours earlier, still full. 

"Why haven't you eaten anything?" 

Stephen paused. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and swallowed thickly, as if suppressing a gag.

"I'm not hungry," he claimed, looking Wong in the eye. 

Wong rolled his eyes. "You haven't eaten since yesterday, how long will it be until you're hungry?" 

All Stephen did was shrug his shoulders and go back to his work. "I'll get there when I get there."

The sight made Wong's heart drop. He hated seeing his beloved like this, working himself to death. What he would give to just take him by the shoulders and drag him to his bed. 

But he knew him like the back of his hand. He wouldn't rest until he found this creature, and even then he'd probably spend a few more days cleaning up the mess. All he could do was wait for Stephen to admit he needed rest. 

Wong exited the room with a sigh. "Call me when you get there." 

Stephen didn't respond. 

* * *

Many hours later, Wong had re-entered the study looking to see if Stephen had decided to finally lie down. What he found instead was a full fruit bowl, a bunch of scattered papers, and no Sorcerer Supreme to be found. 

He made his way upstairs, hoping to find Stephen in his bedroom (where he belonged) when he suddenly heard a strained noise coming from the bathroom. 

Great. 

Wong cautiously knocked in the door. "Stephen? Are you okay in there?" 

From the other side, he could hear Stephen panting. 

"Y-Yeah," he said, shakily.

"You're lying," Wong retorted. 

"I'm not--"

Before Stephen could defend himself, he retched again. Deciding enough was enough, Wong made his way into the bathroom (noting it was hastily unlocked) and found the sorcerer on his knees, heaving over the toilet. 

"--lying," Stephen finished. But it was too late. He looked at Wong, ashamed of his current state. 

All Wong felt was pity. "You look like a mess." 

Stephen glared at him. "You look like you're judging me." 

"I  _ am _ judging you because I  _ told _ you to take a break." 

Stephen shrugged, shifting his weight to lean against the bathtub. "Hey, I'm not getting any work done now, am I?" 

He plastered a smirk on his face as if it were a shield, but Wong penetrated that barrier easily. He kneeled down next to his sick partner, laying the back of his hand to his forehead. 

"You've been working nonstop for 72 hours," he scolded, unaffected by his smirk. "How do you think this was going to end?" 

"I don't know," Stephen huffed, swatting Wong's hand away. "I find the monster, contain it, happily ever after, woo." 

Wong crossed his arms. "The only thing you've found was a stomach bug." 

"You don't know that,” he mused, leaning his head back. “Maybe I'm pregnant." 

He couldn't help but snicker. Even though his beloved was making himself sick due to his own arrogance, he still knew how to make him laugh. 

But that one moment of relief dissipated as another wave of nausea washed over Stephen. He groaned, forced himself back over the toilet, and prepared for Round 2. Not knowing what to do, Wong went to gather his hair, but Stephen pulled back. 

"Please..." he gagged. "...leave. I'd rather be alone right now." 

His words were filled with embarrassment. He didn't like being vulnerable, even in front of his loved ones. Wong just wanted to help him because that's what he was supposed to do. Help him. 

But he was also to respect his wishes. So without any other words, he got up and left the bathroom. 

As he closed the door, he could hear Stephen suffering from the other side and wished to hold him, to relieve the pain for even the shortest second. 

* * *

He returned a half hour later with a cup of tea. If he couldn't hold him, he sought to comfort him in any way possible. 

When he opened the door, he could hear Stephen whimpering. He chose to pretend to ignore it, as he knew Stephen would fully deny he was crying if it were brought up. 

"Think you can handle some tea?" 

Stephen tiredly looked up from his spot on the floor. He unconsciously wiped the tears from his eyes. 

"Have you been standing outside the door this entire time?" 

"No," he handed him the cup. "I sat." 

Stephen examined the contents of the tea, contemplating if he should risk trying to stomach it. Eventually, he took a brief, small sip and handed the cup back.

"It's good tea," he noted. "What kind is this?" 

Without missing a beat, Wong responded with, "Horny goat weed."

Stephen paused, his skin flushing upon hearing the comment, and proceeded to lean over and retch the tea back up.

A wave of guilt washed over Wong."I'm kidding, it's normal green tea." 

Stephen coughed, lifting his hand to flush the toilet as he looked back at Wong. "I appreciate your idea of a joke, but I don't think I could stomach that one." 

"It's better than a pun," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Now, can you move?" 

"Of course..." Stephen attempted to move, only to let out a groan as he settled back into the ground. "No." 

Wong sighed, kneeling down to sling Stephen's arms around his shoulders. He could feel the warmth radiating from Stephen's skin as he helped him up. 

"You're feverish. Do you have any other symptoms?" 

Stephen nodded. "Migraine. Sore throat. Fatigue." 

"It's just the flu," Wong assured, taking him into his bedroom. "You just need to take a break tomorrow and you'll be fine."

"Good plan. Only problem is that I have a meeting at the Avengers' HQ tomorrow." 

Wong held back a sigh as he lowered Stephen into bed. Of course he had a meeting. Of course he overworked himself to this point. Of course, of course, of  _ course.  _

"I'll go," he spoke without a moment's hesitation. 

Stephen, for once, was caught off guard. "What? I thought you didn't like th--"

"I said I'll go," he repeated, laying his blanket across his body. "Is that enough?" 

"I guess," he shrugged. He looked away from him, sweat gleaming face plastered with embarrassment. "You don't have to take care of me. You're just going to get sick." 

"No. I don't get sick. Have you ever seen me sick?"

"No, but--" 

To silence him, Wong placed a firm hand on his cheek and looked him dead in the eye. 

"We aren't having this conversation," he punctuated his sentence by pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Get some rest. I'll make some more tea." 

Luckily, Stephen couldn't fight back. He was far too tired, and the blankets were far too soft. His mouth started to open with an argument on the tip of his tongue, but it swiftly closed as he drifted off into much-needed sleep. 

Wong smiled -- something he didn't do often -- and left the room to fulfill his promise. 

* * *

The next day, Wong left Stephen sleeping in bed as he filled in his shoes at the Avengers' HQ. The first person he saw was Steve Rogers, fiddling with his pen and a tablet. Upon sensing his presence, Steve turned around. 

"Ah, Strange, glad you coul--" 

Steve looked up, cutting himself off swiftly. Wong lifted an eyebrow. 

"You're...not Strange." 

"He likes to be called Doctor Strange," he corrected. "And my name is Wong."

"Ah, Doc's butler," Tony Stark spoke up from the other half of the table. 

Butler. He hated that word. Both he and Stephen knew he was worth more than a servant's reputation. Wong held back the urge to roll his eyes. He had to be nice and respectful. Nice and respectful. 

"Boyfriend, actually," he replied. He pretended not to notice Tony's eyes widen ever so subtly. "Or librarian. Whatever works for you." 

He couldn't help by slightly smirk at Tony's brief surprise. 

Natasha, on the other hand, couldn't care less. "Where is he?" 

"Sick, at the moment," he clarified. "Stomach flu. Should be fine by tomorrow." 

Steve placed his tablet on the table with a frown. "Poor guy. He could've told us he wasn't feeling well, we would've just sent him a memo." 

Wong tried to ignore that last bit. A memo, huh? All of this could've been solved with a simple memo. If only Stephen had actually told them beforehand. 

"Yeah, he's been exhausted all week," Bruce added on. "I'm pretty sure he was on the verge of passing out at the last meeting." 

"And the meeting before that..." Clint said. 

He was passing out during actual meetings...that idiot! Didn't he care about himself? Why didn't he tell him about this? Why didn't he just take a break for once in his goddamn life? 

Wong swallowed his irritation and sought to drive the conversation back on topic. "What's this meeting about?" 

"Oh, right," Steve said. "We wanted to discuss boundaries. We know Strange--" 

"Doctor Strange." 

"...Doctor Strange is a lone wolf and all, and we're sure you are too." 

Wong huffed, shaking his head. "The Kamar-Taj is a separate facility. A third party. We aren't looking to make a partnership with S.W.O.R.D. anytime soon." 

Steve stared at him, his expression deadpan. "It's S.H.I.E.L.D." 

Wong shrugged. It was the same either way to him. Steve chose to move on. 

"But Doctor Strange also tends to our problems. We wanted to see if we could help with his problems if he needed any." 

"The dimensions Doctor Strange saves only require the work of 'one man'," he paused. Lately, he hasn't been so truthful about what the job of 'one man' entailed. "Or so he tells me..." 

Steve grabbed a folder from the table and handed it to Wong. Hesitantly, Wong took it from his hands and opened it. He was met with..a sight.

A printed picture of Stephen sprawled out on the floor of the HQ, pale as a ghost, dehydrated as all Hell. He looked at the picture in pure shock. He didn't remember this incident...

"One time we found him lying on the floor after a dangerous mission," Steve explained, taking the folder from his frozen hands. "Bleeding internally. If we didn't take him to the medbay, he could've died. And we don't think Earth wants its Sorcerer Supreme dead. So we just want to see if you would be willing to ask Strange to collaborate with us if the time ever comes." 

Wong was lost in his own thoughts. That afternoon, the afternoon of the incident, Stephen had walked into the Sanctum acting as if everything was peachy keen. Why wasn't he notified of this? Why didn't Stephen tell him about this? 

Why couldn't he just communicate for once? 

After a while, he finally spoke. "Okay. I'll let him know that." 

Steve, oddly enough, was taken aback. This probably was the basis of the meeting, Wong realized. Stephen would've taken thrice as much time to even admit he needed help sometimes, let alone agree to the proposal. 

"Really?" Steve asked. Wong nodded. "Thank you." 

Wong smiled ever so slightly and finally took a seat. He'd speak with Stephen when he got home. 

"You're welcome." 

* * *

2 hours came and went. Events were mentioned that Wong barely cared about. Half the meeting was spent discussing matters that were more akin for Stephen's experiences than his own. 

Could've all been solved with a memo. 

He left the Avengers with just a half-hearted "thank you for your time" and portaled back to the Sanctum immediately. He walked to Stephen's room, opened the door as quietly as possible, and was luckily met with the sight of Stephen exactly where he left him; in his bed, sleeping like a baby. 

Wong leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. 

"I went there for nothing."

He examined Stephen, the way his chest rose and fell peacefully, the new layer of sweat lying on his forehead. He walked towards him, keeping his eyes on his body. 

"They could've just sent a memo. If you actually, oh I don't know, communicated with them, you wouldn't have had to go," he scolded him. "They would've understood. I could've stayed here and watched over you some more." 

He got a snore in response. He knew he couldn't hear him, but for some reason that made him even more frustrated. It didn't matter if Stephen was conscious or comatose, he wouldn't listen to Wong no matter how loudly he shouted or how many times he repeated himself. It was like trying to talk to a rock. 

"They wanted to help you, you know? They care about you. You're like an honorary team member to them." He brushed his hair out of his face. "But you wouldn't accept their help because you have to prove you can do everything on your own. And look at where that's gotten you." 

Stephen snored loudly, turning over to his side, his hair falling back onto his warm skin. Even when he was asleep, he mocked him. 

A wave of guilt washed over Wong. Here was his beloved, sick and nauseous, and all he was doing was criticizing him. 

"I shouldn't-- I shouldn't be scolding you at a time like this," he admitted apologetically. "Your heart was in the right place, at least. I should've communicated with you better. I shouldn't have let you get sick. I saw that you were overworking yourself, and I did nothing. I'm sorry." 

He ran his fingers down Stephen's cheek. He's done it before, usually on a couch or on a grassy field under the stars. It never failed to make Stephen smile. 

And when Stephen smiled, so did Wong. 

He couldn't believe him. He couldn't believe how this...dumb man could make him fall in love with him. It was mind-boggling. But he wouldn't want it any other way. 

"You're odd," he said aloud. "You're arrogant, stubborn, rude. But you're also hardworking, and sweet, and caring. I've watched you stumble through Hell and back just to protect this planet. I know that you would die for me, and you should know that I would do the same for you." He paused to chuckle. "I don't know how this happens, where you're the prince and I'm the knight in shining armor, but it always does. I always come back for you. It's always you." 

He softly grabbed Stephen's shoulder, feeling the fabric of the old sweater he changed into hours earlier. It was a remnant of his past life, his only physical memory from his childhood. Stephen's story echoed fresh in his mind: a cool summer night, an old farm in Nebraska, he and his two siblings watching fireflies buzz around, his mother knitting sweaters far too big, his father pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. 

It was a lovely thing, to dream the world away. 

Wong had his own dreams. Dreams about living comfortably, settling down, starting a family. Nothing too specific...until Stephen entered the picture. Now all of his dreams centered around him. 

"One day we could get married," he daydreamed. "We could give the Sanctum up to a protegé, a former student, perhaps? We could go back to Nebraska." He looked at Stephen. "I know how you've always wanted to go back to Nebraska one day. We could start a farm together. We could start a family together.

He smiled tenderly. This was the only place he felt the freedom to smile -- just him and Stephen, alone in the universe. 

"I never thought about leaving my studies until I met you. It's always you, isn't it? It always comes back to you." 

But Stephen, of course, didn't reply. The smile still lingered on Wong's face. He had to admit, Stephen looked kinda cute while he was asleep. Of course, he wouldn't know since he rarely saw him rest. He pressed the back of his hand against Stephen's forehead, noting the significant decrease in warmth. 

"Your fever went down. That's good," he said. He let his hand drift down his face one more time, imagining his smile. "I don't know how you look so sweet when you're sick, but you do." 

Wong let the moment remain for one second, two seconds, three seconds more. All of a sudden, Stephen groaned, waking up. 

"W-Wong?" 

Wong rubbed his arm comfortingly. "I'm here. Are you feeling any better?" 

Stephen moaned as an answer. "How was the meeting?"

Wong opted to smile and make his answer brief. 

"It went well." 

Stephen grimaced, either because of nausea or knowledge that he was lying, and opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by the doorbell suddenly ringing from downstairs, causing him to tense up. 

"W-Who's that?" 

He got up to answer the door, but Wong gently took his shoulders and lowered him back into the sheets. 

"Just go back to sleep. I'll get it." 

Stephen surrendered himself to his blankets once more. Wong kissed him on the forehead and got up and walked downstairs to answer. 

Whoever was there better have a good reason for dropping in. 

The doorbell rang again right as Wong opened the door. And there stood Steve and Tony, the former holding a gift basket. 

"You again?" Wong asked, incredulously. They cared this much, huh? 

Steve awkwardly shook the basket. "We, uh, we made a care package for him."

He gave the basket to Wong, who quickly searched its contents. Fruit that Stephen couldn't eat, bath salts that Stephen would be indifferent about, and tea that he was sure he wouldn't like. 

"Huh. Store bought tea," he deadpanned. He handed it back to him. "How generous."

"Can we give it to him?" 

"I'll just take it to h--"

Tony stepped in and opened his big mouth. "We want to see him. We need to talk to him." 

Wong tried to close the door. He didn't have time for this. "Why don't you send him a memo?" 

Tony jammed his foot in between the door and the frame, not even flinching when Wong slammed it in. "Where is he?" 

Wong looked at them, defeated. He didn't want to disturb Stephen, but he knew he'd call him out if he didn't let the big and mighty Avengers talk business with him. 

He opened the door again, signaling for them to enter. 

"Up the stairs, first door to the left..." 

The two of them walked in. Tony didn't give him any thanks, but Steve turned back and said, 

"Thank you." 

And then he proceeded up the stairs. Wong followed them up, grumbling under his breath about them disturbing his much-needed rest. It's not like they would listen, however. 

He respected them, fair enough. He was thankful that they, too, realized how much Stephen was overworking himself. But right now he felt like they didn't care as much as they did back during the meeting. They wanted something from Stephen, and they weren't going to leave until they got it. 

Tony walked up and knocked on the door. "Strange?" 

"Doctor Strange." 

"Are you in there?" 

"He's resti--" 

As if on cue, Stephen opened the door, dressed in his professional robes. His hair was swept back, his face was clear of sweat, and he must've performed some incantation to make the color return to his skin. 

"Yes?" He asked, trying to put up an aloof façade. "What do you need my help with?" 

Steve entered the picture. He handed Stephen the gift basket. "We just wanted to give you this to make sure you get better. We actually didn't know you were sick."

Stephen waved his comment off. "It's just a 24-hour bug. I should be fine soon." 

Wong looked at him dead in the eye.

"So get back to bed," he whispered through his teeth. He could see a greenish tint forming around his face. He was struggling to keep himself together. 

"Really?" Steve asked, oblivious to his ailing health. "Well, we were wondering, only if you can, if you could help us with a Latverian conflict tonight?" 

"What?" Wong inquired. Didn't they just hear him? He distinctly told them Stephen was in no shape to help them...

By the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth, they were gonna use him, weren't they? 

He was getting over a goddamn stomach virus, he didn't need to be up on his feet anytime soon. But of course, this being Stephen, he was forcing himself to stand. And since no one would listen to him, Wong would just have to watch Stephen given them what they wanted. 

"What's the conflict?" Stephen asked, coughing into his fist. 

"We just got an alert that a mystical force is on the verge of invading Latveria. We got in contact with Scarlet Witch earlier, but we might not know if she's eno--" 

Stephen flashed a smile and nodded. "I'll be there." 

Wong walked past Steve and faced Stephen himself. Seeing him up close, he could tell how sweaty and pale he still was, even with magic abound. "No you won't." 

"Yes I wi--" 

Stephen cut himself off abruptly, his eyes widening for a brief moment as his skin turned full green. He closed the door and rushed away, presumably to the bathroom. 

Wong turned around to face the two heroes, who were looking very concerned. 

"I'm sorry, but as you can tell, Doctor Strange isn't at his best right now," he waved them off. "Good luck on your Latveria thing." 

"Thank you for letting us see him," Steve said. He was earnest, Wong had to admire

That made him a little better than the other one. "Enjoy the tea!" 

"Bye," Wong replied as they exited the Sanctum. When he heard the door slam shut, he scoffed. "' _Enjoy the tea'_." 

He opened the door to the room. The first thing he saw was the gift basket thrown messily on the ground, the tea boxes falling from the wrapped plastic. He could hear a retch from the bathroom. 

Wong entered cautiously and found Stephen on his knees. He had reverted back to his sickly state, his robes halfway off, and vomiting back into the toilet. His heart dropped. 

"Stephen..." He went to comfort him, but Stephen swatted back. 

When the heaving was done, he looked back at Wong. "Are they gone?" 

Wong withdrew the desire to call him out on his self-destructive behavior and simply nodded. "Yes. They just left." 

Stephen nodded breathlessly. Not even a moment later, he got up and flushed the toilet. "I need my sling ring-" 

Wong grabbed him by his shoulders as he tried to walk back into his room. 

"No," he stated firmly. "You need to lie back down and sleep for the rest of the day." 

Stephen pulled away weakly, not even looking at his partner as he searched for his sling ring. "They need my help." 

"I'm going to bet that whatever force they're facing can be dealt with within an hour," Wong claimed. He pointed a finger at him. "What can't be dealt with within an hour is your bug. You're just prolonging it the longer you work yourself." 

Stephen turned around abruptly, firmly swatting his hand away. 

"Well excuse me for doing our job!" 

Wong paused, frozen by his words. 

"Our job?" 

"To protect this dimension from mystic threats,," he huffed. He sounded breathless, despite barely lifting a finger for the past few seconds. "Isn't it in the rulebook?" 

"There is no rulebook." 

Stephen rolled his eyes, making his way to the nightstand. "There should be."

Wong grabbed his hand before he could open the stand's drawer. "Mysticism is about transcending the rules of reality." 

A violent tug broke the connection between them. "I thought the first thing you said to me was not to break the natural law." 

He didn't have any more words. He knew he wasn't winning this battle anytime soon. He examined his beloved up and down, mentally checking off every symptom of rampant illness. Stephen’s face was red with fever (or emotion), his sweat was coating his robes, and he continuously swayed in place. His words held an airy aura, muttered with delirium. It was undeniable now; Stephen was working himself to death. 

"Go back to bed," he said, taking his shoulders. Stephen groaned, but melted into his touch. Wong had to resist the urge to smile, to let his guard down. "Please. You make me worry." 

He lowered Stephen onto the bed, lying him down carefully on top of the blanket. He felt Stephen's body begrudgingly fall into the mattress. 

"Fine." 

Wong hummed triumphantly, kissing him on the forehead. 

"I'll be back with your tea." 

In hindsight, he should've known it was foolish to turn his back on him. It was foolish to leave him alone for even a millisecond. But he was tired. So, so tired. He couldn't afford to push himself past his limits any longer. He had no choice but to finally rest. 

He was gone for 5 minutes. That's all. He went to the kitchen, made some teaz and returned to the room all in 5 minutes. And somehow, in only 5 minutes, Stephen managed to escape.

Wong didn't panic. Wong didn't yell. He just calmly set down his tray and sighed heavily. He fucking foresaw this coming and he still left him alone. He was absolutely inane. 

He went for the drawer first. And lo and behold, it was completely empty. 

No sling ring in sight. 

"Goddammit..." 

He didn't have time to condemn himself, or to scold Stephen, or to even shake his head. He needed to get to Latveria fast. 

He dug into his robes for his own sling ring and hastily formed a portal. He watched an army of Mindless Ones approach the kingdom, imagining the Avengers stationed not too far away to retaliate. 

"You better not kill yourself," he whispered to himself as he stepped forward. 

* * *

  
Latveria. Cold. Cold? Usually not cold. Was he cold? No, he was warm. Too warm, perhaps? No, no, not too warm. Perfectly warm. A normal amount of warm. Entirely capable to complete the mission. 

Stephen's mind kept drifting in and out between association and dissociation. His brain kept filling with thoughts, causing his ever-growing migraine to increasingly make itself known. Nevertheless, he trudged over on the battlefield towards his team. 

"Stark." 

"Strange! You ma--" Tony turned around, his expression shifting into one of concern once he faced Stephen. "You... don't look too good." 

Stephen forced a smile on his face and crossed his arms arrogantly. "I'm feeling great. Good as new." 

"You're pale," he replied, narrowing his eyes. Stephen noticed him recoil slightly. "Kinda green." 

"It's just a side-effect. It'll pass in a few hours." 

Steve looked at him, similarly looking concerned. "Are you sure you're up for this?" 

"I already said yes, did I not?" Stephen cradled his forehead, though he didn't know if that was because of his weary patience or his obnoxiously loud migraine. He settled for both. 

Steve examined him, still looking skeptical. "Alright," he said at last. "But if at any point you end up burning out, let us know." 

Stephen opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off with a gag. He covered his mouth quickly and flashed a thumbs up to Tony and Steve, who stepped back. Before they could say anything else, Stephen flew into battle. 

The first thing he noticed was the array of enemies that awaited his path. They were gray blobs with one singular red eye, much like the creature he was hunting before he was struck with this godforsaken bug. 

He landed on the ground, struggling to maintain his balance. He planted his feet into the cement of the streets and looked the army head on. 

"Mindless Ones," he whispered to himself. "I let you get away once, but that will be the last time." 

He raised his hand to strike a spell, but was hit back before he could mutter anything. He fell to the ground, pain flooding his body before he could think about his next move. 

"I can't kill you," he said, forcing himself up. "But I can paralyze you." 

He summoned another spell upon his fingertips and threw it at the army without thinking. He didn't need to damage them. All he needed to do was knock them out. 

He hit one Mindless One. Out of approximately 20. 

He tried to summon another spell, but a wave of nausea overtook his body and suddenly he was crouching over his shoes and retching bile into the ground. 

He screwed his eyes shut in pain, but he forced himself to open them back up. What he saw was a load of Mindless Ones crowding him, ready to attack. 

About 5 of them were knocked out by a shield hitting their backs out of nowhere. Steve rushed over to Stephen and offered him his hand.

"I'm going to ask this again," he said, averting his eyes from the mess on the ground. "Do you need to step out?" 

Without missing a beat, Stephen shook his head and wiped his mouth. "No. I'm perfectly okay." 

"Look, you just got over a bug, I understand if you want to take it easy." 

"Rogers, you don't have to coddle me," he snapped, pushing him away.. "I'm  _ fine _ ." 

He briskly walked past him, staggering with every step. Steve glared at him.

"You don't sound fine at all." 

His remark was bitter, but he rushed back to the fight soon afterwards. Stephen refused to respond. He didn't know what he was talking about.  _ He _ wasn't the doctor.  _ He _ didn't spend thousands of money on medical school. What did he know? 

Stephen rushed into the next set of Mindless Ones, no longer caring about specific spells. All he needed to do was aim and shoot, aim and shoot, aim and shoot, until he didn't need to shoot anything else. 

He got through about 8 foes before he wore himself out. He raised a shaking fist at the army, but he could barely focus enough to summon anything. Sweat rained down his body, coating himself with even more warmth. His migraine had become unignorable by now. 

He fell to his knees, hyperventilating. The Mindless Ones were still approaching, but he was out of commission. 

All he could do was close his eyes and accept his fate…

And then a voice thundered from the Heavens. 

_ "STEPHEN VINCENT STRANGE!"  _

Middle name. That was never any good. 

Wong ran toward Stephen, quickly helping him up. He summoned a Shield of Seraphim to hold off the Mindless Ones.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Stephen said, breathlessly. 

Wong stared at him, angered beyond all Hell. "What in the Seven Rings of Raggador are you doing here? Why aren't you in bed?" 

Stephen rolled his eyes. "I'm helping the Avengers." 

"They can do this on their own!" 

"People might die if I just step down!" 

"It's just a few Mindless Ones! No one is going to die! You don't need to fight everyone's battles! You look like shit, your magic is drained, and you need to go to bed." 

Wong went to grab his sling ring, but Stephen grabbed his hand away. 

"Why do you care so much anyway?" He asked, voice coated with irritation. "I've spent the past 24 hours puking my guts out, grossing you out."

Wong chose to ignore the growing roars of the monsters behind them and looked his beloved in the eyes. 

"Stephen, I've been a sorcerer longer than you have," he said. "'Gross' means nothing to me anymore." 

"But I'm just being a burden! That's all I am, a burden. If I'm supposed to be the Sorcerer Supreme, why is it so hard for me to take down a few Mindless Ones?!" 

The shield finally shattered, allowing the creatures to approach them once more. Wong readied a portal, but before he could move he heard a bellowing voice behind him. 

_ "BY THE CRIMSON BANDS OF CYTTORAK!"  _

He turned around to see Stephen hovering in the air, eyes brightly lit up with a crimson glow. His magic shot through the land like lightning. 

In an instant, every Mindless One before them was restrained by a thick chain. Wong quickly opened a portal, sending them back to their own dimension. 

He settled back on the ground, breathing heavily. Wong rushed to his side, touching his shoulder. Stephen almost collapsed into him, his face paler than before (which was rightfully concerning, considering his state.) 

"You aren't being a burden, okay?" Wong whispered sweetly into his ear. "I love you." 

Stephen paused between breaths, shock flickering onto his face once he heard those 3 words. He looked him in the eye. "What?" 

Wong didn't realize what he had said. But he meant it 100%. 

"I love you," he repeated, kissing him on the cheek. "Now let's get to bed. You're all worn out." 

Right as he said that, Stephen's knees buckled and he fell into Wong's arms. Wong shook his head, slightly amused this time, and lifted him into a bridal carry. 

"You idiot." 

He was about to make his way back to the Sanctum, but the Avengers found him before he could go back. He tried not to scowl at them as he turned around. 

Steve reached out his arms. "We can take him from here." 

"He's  _ my _ beloved, I'm taking him back to his room," he asserted. 

Steve nodded, but still held his arms out. "We just need to get a quick check-up at the medbay, and he'll be all yours." 

Really? After all this, that was the best they could give him? A check-up? 

But then again...they were offering hospitality. They probably tried to warn him not to overwhelm himself. It wasn't their fault Stephen chose to help them in this state. They obviously cared about Stephen as much as he did. 

Well, almost. 

Wong looked down at Stephen. He eyed his pale skin, his bruised forehead, his burning body. He couldn't just leave him alone like this. 

"Can I at least stay by his side?" 

Steve smiled warmly. "Of course. He might want to see a familiar face when he wakes up." 

Wong couldn't help but smile ever so slightly in response. He carefully gave Stephen's body to the team and followed them over to their quinjet. He watched them hoist Stephen onto a gurney and wheel him into a restricted area as they took off.

Wong watched him the entire flight. He didn't take his eyes off of his slowly recuperating body for one second. Though they were seperated by glass, he felt closer to him than ever. 

He took the flight to reevaluate his opinions about the Avengers. Sure, they were brash and arrogant, but at least they cared. And the very least they cared. 

Maybe Stephen was in good hands after all. 

* * *

An entire afternoon later, Stephen finally woke up to the blinding fluorescent lights of the Compound's medbay. A groan escaped his lips. He felt like shit.

Complete and utter shit. 

The first thing he did was look for Wong. And lo and behold, his beloved was right by his side, flashing him a subtle grin as he blinked his eyes open. 

"I hate this place," Stephen grumbled.

He got a chuckle in response, which was a surprise. 

"Me too," A warm hand cupped his cheek. "You've been out for 4 hours."

Stephen moaned, wrapping his arms around his abdomen. "I'm sick." 

"Really? I haven't noticed." 

Stephen rolled his eyes right as his skin began to pale. 

"Just-- hand me the bedpan." 

Dropping the teasing, Wong grabbed the bedpan immediately and brought it to his lips. Then it was just a retread of the past 24 hours, with Stephen once again pouring his guts out into the metal. 

Wong rubbed his back. Stephen let him. He didn't realize how much he longed to be comforted until now. 

When all was said and done (for now) Wong took the bedpan out of his hands and set it aside. Stephen lied back into his bed, gripping his pounding forehead as he tried to calm his breaths. 

"This sucks," he said simply. "I'm sure it wouldn't be as bad if I just rested, right?" 

Wong smiled at him sympathetically. 

"Yeah, but at least you saved the day." He asserted. "You need to remember that you're not a burden. I live to take care of you. I love you." 

Stephen couldn't help but beam at his words. "You're gonna make me puke again." 

Wong laughed. "Just stay. Stay with me. I love you, forever and always." 

He kissed him on the forehead. Stephen pushed him away playfully. 

"Don't do that. You'll get sick." 

"You're beyond the point of contagious. All you need is rest. Besides, I don't get sick. Have you ever seen me sick?" 

Stephen took a moment to think, but came out with nothing.

"No…" 

Wong placed a hand on his leg. Stephen placed a hand over his. This was something they could agree on: this intimacy. This feeling of being wanted, of being loved. Both of them always forgot how much they adored this feeling until they couldn't have it. 

Well luckily, they could have it again. 

"I love you," Stephen smiled, staring into his eyes adoringly. 

Wong nodded. He's been waiting all day to hear those words. He didn't need a thank you, he just needed those three words. 

"I love you too." 

He kissed his forehead again, savoring the moment this time. It burnt against his lips, but he didn't mind. He could never mind. When he pulled back, he could see Stephen's eyelids drowsily lowering. He said one word: 

"Rest." 

And Stephen did at last.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> i just think we need more Wongrange fics in the world because anyone who reads the 2015 comics (go read the 2015 comics btw) should know how much their dynamic makes my heart go 😍💕 😍


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